*~*Playing with Trouble by Chanel Cleeton – Exclusive Excerpt*~*

The author of Flirting with Scandal presents her second book in a sexy contemporary romance series about three sisters in a powerful political family, the scandals that threaten to destroy them, and the passion that drives them…

The daughter of one of the Senate’s most powerful figures, Blair Reynolds was ready to become the ultimate political wife—until she caught her fiancé cheating on her wedding day. Law school is a fresh start, her shot at putting the pieces of her life back together. That’s the plan, at least. Until trouble comes in the form of her Torts professor, the man whose arrogance infuriates her in class but haunts her private fantasies.

 

Graydon Canter had a fortune and a place on all the hottest “Thirty under Thirty” lists, until a series of personal missteps nearly destroyed his career. A year teaching at a D.C. law school is just the break he needs to get his life back in order, as long as nothing—and no one—trips him up.

 

When Blair and Gray are forced to work together, their explosive attraction becomes impossible to resist. But Gray’s demons have drawn him dangerously close to the edge, and Blair has spent her life playing by the rules. Will she break them for a shot at love?

The author of I See London sets her sights on Washington, D. C., with a sexy new series about three sisters, the secrets they keep, and a powerful blog with a knack for exposing scandals…

Jackie Gardner knows all about dirty little secrets. The illegitimate daughter of one of the most influential senators in Washington, D.C., she grew up surrounded by the scandals and shadows of politics. Now that she’s landed an internship with a powerful political consulting firm, she’s determined to launch her career and take this city by storm.

William Andrew Clayton was born for politics. He knows the drill: work hard, play discreetly, and at all costs, avoid scandal. At twenty-six, his campaign for the Virginia State Senate is the first step to cementing his future. It’s time for him to settle down, to find the perfect political spouse. He needs a Jackie Kennedy, not a Marilyn…

When Jackie meets Will in the bar of the Hay-Adams Hotel, sparks fly. But the last thing Will needs is to be caught in a compromising position, and an affair with a political candidate could cost Jackie her career. When what began as one steamy night, becomes a passion neither one of them can walk way from, they must decide if what they have is really love, or just another dirty little secret…

I turned the knob and froze, my earlier discomfort returning with a vengeance.  Speak of the devil . . .

Professor Canter stared back at me, the same look of surprise on his face that I figured was mirrored in mine.

People always remarked on my composure, and considering the years I’d spent learning to hide my emotions when Kate and I were paraded around for campaign stops and photo ops, I knew it was solid. Most of the time. The trick was that I could be calm when I was in control. When I was prepared, I was fine. When things were unexpected, I flailed. A lot.

Like right fucking now.

The moment our gazes locked it was as if someone had vacuumed all of the air out of the room, leaving a whole lot of awkward with a side of lust lingering around me.

We’d never been this close before. There were always rows between us, the classroom and our roles in it, a barrier I didn’t dare cross. But now? Seeing him sitting behind his desk—stacks of papers around him, an old Starbucks cup—

I couldn’t help but stare.

He was dressed in a suit—black and expensive; tie—gray. He wore a snowy white dress shirt that contrasted with his tanned skin. His hair was almost the color of his suit—more black than brown, his eyes a shade lighter. He had an interesting face—not handsome, exactly. Rather, his face was hard and strong, and foolishly enough, made me think of warriors and conquerors and men with swords. He looked ruthless, and given the few interactions we’d had, I didn’t doubt he was.

He was more than a little rough around the edges. I didn’t know how to explain it—just knew it when I saw it—but he lacked the casual air of someone who’d grown up with money. He didn’t wear the tie like he was born to it, instead he wore it with an air of defiance. Like he was his own man and wasn’t afraid to tell the world to go fuck itself if he didn’t meet their expectations.

He remained still under my inspection, my gaze impossible for either one of us to ignore. After the shit he pulled in class—the way he watched me, how often he called on me, the smug satisfaction in his eyes when he got a rise out of me—I didn’t feel the least bit sorry.

One dark eyebrow rose as he leaned back in his chair. “Are you finished?”

There it was again, that voice. Something about it needled me. Maybe it was his confidence that seeped over into arrogance, or the fact that he didn’t play by the rules I’d been raised to follow as though they were gospel. Everything about him seemed to not give two fucks about manners and social niceties. As much as it pissed me off, I also envied him.

I lifted my gaze to meet his, momentarily at a loss for words.

I cleared my throat. “I was looking for the pro bono office. I’m the new 1L rep,” I added.

His eyes widened slightly, his fingers skimming along his jaw, the corner of his mouth turning up into a smirk.

I wanted to kiss—or slap—that smirk off of his face.

“Of course you are.”

There was a hint of humor there, wrapped in silky darkness, but I couldn’t tell who it was meant for, if he was mocking me or himself. And honestly, I only thought about it for a second, before the full punch of his voice hit me.

I’d been shopping for a dress for a charity ball a few months ago, and I’d gone to this little boutique in Georgetown and tried on a dozen dresses. I ended up with a conservative, ballet-pink satin gown. But before that, I’d tried on this one dress—red, silk, so low cut in the front and back that it couldn’t be worn with a bra. As soon as I’d slid that dress over my skin, I’d felt like someone else. My nipples had tightened, rubbing against the silky material, every nerve ending alive as the dress caressed my bare flesh, surrounding me in heat.

Professor Canter’s voice reminded me of being bathed in silk. Of temptation and darkness and sex.

Most of the time when he spoke, his tone was ice. But once in a while, when he spoke to me, I noticed the nearly imperceptible shift. And my body responded instantly.

Fuck.

“I guess I got the office wrong,” I mumbled. “I should go; I’m going to be late for the meeting. Sorry I bothered you.” I turned for the door, feeling like I was Persephone attempting to flee the depths of the underworld.

“Wait.”

I froze mid-step, the need to obey authority figures too ingrained for me to consider walking out when the last thing I wanted to do was stay. My heart raced, a nervous energy filling my body. Slowly, I turned back to face him as invisible strings pulled me deeper like Hades and his fucking pomegranate seeds.

He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

“I’m the pro bono faculty liaison for the first-year class. They just asked me to do it today. Apparently Professor Richardson had to bow out due to a scheduling conflict.” He hesitated and his voice changed again. “I didn’t realize you were the class representative. I guess we’ll be working together from now on.”

And just like that, the underworld swallowed me up with a savage gulp.